Your everything

“Ah, that was fun!” Kazuha exhales, stretching out on the couch. She wiggles a little, trying to free herself from the soft pile of pillows that had slowly swallowed her over the past hour. She turns around, her legs still folded beside you, and gives you a lazy smile with her cheek pressed against the back of the sofa.

“I’m feeling tired,” she sighs, “but I’m not really sleepy.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna go to sleep yet,” you answer, patting your pockets for the remote before standing to go look for it.

“You still have the snacks, right?” she asks, tapping your knee with her foot.

“Of course, it’s not like I can eat all of that alone.”

“Mmmh, maybe you could,” Kazuha grins.  

“Way to go, calling me fat.”

“I didn’t say that!” she protests immediately, sitting up straighter.

“It was implied,” you reply, and stand up.

“Are you offended? No, don’t go!” she groans dramatically, reaching an arm toward you.

You chuckle. “I’m not offended. I’m going to the kitchen to get something to drink.”

You laugh. “I’m not offended. Just going to get something to drink.”

“Alright,” she says, letting herself fall backward into the couch cushions again.

You pause at the doorway. “Hey, why don’t you get into your pyjama?”

Kazuha blinks, then nods. “Yeah, I should. Can I use your shower? I still haven’t cleaned.”

“Yep, that’s fine. Go ahead,” you say. “I’ll change here.”

“Okay,” she hums, stretching once more before slowly sliding off the couch.

You’re opening the fridge while you hear Kazuha fidgeting around with her overnight bag, followed by the soft sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway. You grab the orange juice and pour yourself a glass.

The sleepover hadn’t been planned long in advance. You had just casually joked with her, saying you should have a sleepover sometimes since you were such good friends, except this time you both actually followed through. Kazuha had seemed a little nervous at first, hesitating at your door with her bag slung over her shoulder, cheeks pink, and fidgeting fingers. But the moment the two of you sat down, started talking, and put on a movie, she just went along with it.

You change into your pyjamas, if that’s the right term—a loose shirt and soft loung pants—and drop back onto the couch, letting your body sink into the cushions. While waiting for Kazuha to finish her shower, you grab the remote and flip the TV on a random channel just to not keep the room too quiet.

You stretch out, one warm tucked under your head, the other resting lazily across your stomach. It doesn’t take long for you to start dozing off, but you don’t want to fight it and let your eyelids softly rest on your pupils.

You don’t hear the bathroom door click open, and neither the soft footsteps padding down the hallway. 

Kazuha just came out of the shower and was walking towards the living room. Her steps slow down when she sees your silhouette. From her angle, she can’t see your face, but the light from the screen illuminated your figure just enough for her to get a good look at all the important parts: the way your hair fell across your face, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. A bit of your collarbone was peeking out of your baggy shirt, the fabric loose around your midsection—there was too much skin.

She feels her breath quicken. Her hands quickly move to her chest, and she tries to collect herself. There’s something about seeing you so relaxed, so unguarded, that made her feel all weird inside.

That sharp jawline, the thin fabrics on top of your skin—your skin—her mind starts flashing pictures of what it might look like underneath. The veins on your hands and forearms, your waist, and her eyes are glued to you.

‘What are you thinking, Kazuha?’ she tells herself. Her cheeks flush and her face gets warm, but then the feeling lowers down, to her chest, down to her stomach, and then… between her legs.

That’s when Kazuha starts sweating. 

She can feel it harden under her and stretch the fabric. ‘No, no, no, no, no, fuck, not right now,’ she swears silently and tries her best to think of something else. No help. You’re right in front of her, how could she think of something else?

Her hands go to cover her crotch, but it doesn’t help at all and instead keeps growing.

Kazuha is so caught up in her own mind that she doesn’t realize you’re already up and staring her from the couch, and when her hands go to her sides, you get a very good glimpse of it—her bulge.

Your eyes are wide open and your mouth slightly agape.

Kazuha’s face is frozen, though her eyes are twitching. Her mouth is open, but no sound comes out. The color drains from her skin in an instant, leaving her face pale and cold. She can’t breathe; instead, she just stares at you, utterly exposed. You weren’t supposed to see that. No, anyone but you.

“I—is that…?” you stutter. The words come out of their own, and you suddenly feel embarrassed at your forwardness. 

Kazuha tries to hide herself, though it is too late. Her knees give out and she collapses on the floor, knees folding together, her head bowed down. 

“Yeah. That… is a bulge.”

“Sorry,” that’s all you can say.

“I… Fuck,” Kazuha starts. She’s almost on the brink of her tears and can’t look you in the eyes. You can’t blame her. “I’ve been hiding it and… I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

You don’t know what to say and instead keep staring at her, knowing it probably makes things worse, but feeling helpless in the lack of options. You sit more upright on the couch and rub the back of your neck. 

“You have a penis,” you say.

“Yeah, I have a dick,” Kazuha repeats bluntly. She’s tired of running around it. You’ve seen it, and it’s probably the last time you’ll talk to her. She just wants to get it over with. 

“But you’re…”

“I’m a woman, yes, just… with a dick.”

“Kazuha, I didn’t know…”

Kazuha looks defeated. Her shoulders slump lifelessly together with her hands, resting on her lap. “No one knows about this,” she murmurs. She takes a shaky breath, lifting her eyes just enough for you to see the shame in her face. “Promise to keep it a secret? Please.”

Her usual playful tone is gone. Her voice feels rough, filled with remorse. Now it’s angry, angry with herself. “I know it’s gross, and weird, just—”

“I don’t think it’s weird.”

Kazuha’s head snaps up at that. Her eyes widen in pure surprise. She doesn’t finish her sentence. There are a couple of words that try to slip out from her quivering lips, but then she quiets down. She had already prepared herself for judgment and didn’t know what to do with acceptance. 

The relief is too sudden, too confusing.

“It’s fine, really,” you say. “I don’t mind it.”

A breath escapes her. It chokes her. Then she starts laughing. She can’t fully process what her nerves are telling her, but your words ring out in her head. “What— what do you mean you don’t mind it?”